


Decisions

by Faerax



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Bad Days, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1949889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faerax/pseuds/Faerax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ezra has a bad day.  Vin helps him out.  Cross posted at FF.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jinx7985 (winks7985)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winks7985/gifts).



Title: Decisions  
Summary: Ezra has a rough day. Vin helps him out.  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Owned by MGM.  
Dedication: For Jinx7985, who was having a bad day one day. Thanks for letting me post it.

**

Ezra was exhausted. The last case had sapped his strength, mentally, if not physically. The first time ever in his life, he felt old. The Glenlivet burned his throat as he downed another shot, scarcely pausing to watch the reflections in the amber fluid. The lights wavered and distorted in the shifting liquid, and his own face looked more like the thug he wasn't than the honest man he was trying to be. 

Some days the lines were drawn with watercolor paint and it was hard to tell what was right anymore. Was a man wrong for wanting to defend his family's home? All Alan Jones had wanted had been to keep away the man serving the eviction notice, stall it for a few more days until he could find out what became of his brother, classified as Missing In Action in Afghanistan. Alan was John's only living relative, and the sole beneficiary of his will. The bank's patience had run out, though, before the destitute man could claim his inheritance. 

A spiritless man would have accepted defeat. A wise man would have cut his losses and bowed out gracefully. Alan Jones was neither spiritless nor wise. He was a man with a personal armory, enough chemistry knowledge to create home-made explosives, and a desperation strong enough to turn his knowledge into a weapon. His home became a magnet for every angry, disenchanted, anti-government, anti-corporate, anti-human life lunatic that had a beef with someone. Ezra had lived in this nest of hatred and rage for nearly a month. 

Normally the cases didn't get to Ezra like this, but when he looked at Alan, he could have been watching a number of his extended family. Most of the team thought Ezra came out with a silver spoon in his mouth, and if he was feeling honest, Maude had done a great deal to get her son the opportunities he enjoyed. However, that didn't mean he didn't know what he came from. At times he'd stayed with his relatives who were, quite literally, dirt poor. Farmer's that couldn't get a sustainable crop to grow on fields long since ruined, if they'd ever been productive in the first place. He'd seen the faces of the men who were responsible for feeding wife and children attempt to hold everything together under the strain of having no money and no hope for the future. Those men had taught him more thoroughly to eschew responsibility whenever possible than his mother ever had. The consequences were too high for the risk.

Ezra understood Alan Jones in a way that he doubted any of his teammates did. It didn't surprise him, either, that when Susan, Alan's wife, took their child and left, that it caused Alan to spiral out of control to his rather Pyrrhic victory. Alan had justified everything that happened to that point as being done for the good of his family. When his family left him, there was nothing left to defend, and there was only a man that didn't mind losing his life. The best part of it was already gone.

The undercover specialist had done his best to talk the man down, remind him that there was a good chance Susan would be back if he would but yield the property. Ezra himself was willing to testify to the man's good intentions and poor circumstances. Alan hadn't listened, and the ATF, fearing that Alan would do something drastic, acted to clear out the small ranch. The dissidents had generally fled in the face of the government's wrath. Alan stood his ground. Having lost everything, he decided to go out with a blaze of glory, setting up IEDs and blowing up the house with himself still in it. What had driven Ezra to drink was the fact that Alan had sent the agent away, telling him to go out to one of the outbuildings and retrieve something for the distraught man, far enough away that when house went up, Ezra had been safe. 

Alan Jones had not been a bad man. Just a man in bad circumstances.

Another shot filled the glass, another life lost to keep order in this great nation. The bottle wouldn't take to many more hits before it would be as empty as Ezra felt. Idly the man wondered if he would pass out at that point, or if it would be better to find more alcohol, not that there was much in his home. Funny that being with the ATF generally decreased his desire for alcohol. Still, he did have moonshine, or was it white lightning? stored in mason jars down on the floor of his closet. His own private stash from his bootlegging relations. 

Sighing, he turned back to his computer. A poorly written resignation letter was started. He didn't need the ATF. Mother thought it madness that he stayed in law enforcement when there were much more lucrative career paths available to him. But he was good at it, and at times, he could remember that he saved lives on a daily basis. It made committing to leaving so difficult. 

He was distracted from his thoughts by the dull thudding of someone knocking on his door. With a weary curse Ezra got up and descended the stairs to the front entryway. The knocking persisted, and Ezra looked out the spy hole in the door to ascertain the identity of his visitor. It was with some surprise that he noticed it was Vin. The long-haired sharp-shooter stared back at the hole, impatiently tapping a foot. For a moment the knocking stopped. Ezra hoped that Vin would get the message and leave.

Vin considered the door, his forehead blown up beyond normal by the distortion of the lens. He saw Vin lean down and then heard scratching at the lock. That son-of-a-bitch was going to pick the lock! Ezra growled low in his throat. Idly he thought about throwing the bolt, perhaps damaging the picks, but those same picks had saved his life and the life of his teammates too often to be destroyed in a fit of pique. The frustrated man crossed his arms, trying to drive the irritation, the anger, the despair out of his frame before his team mate came in. Appearances, dear floated through his mind, his mother's voice quietly chastising. 

Ezra decided that in this case, retreat was the best course of action. Maybe Vin would give up; he had to pick three locks in order to get through the front door. He returned upstairs to his liquor and his resignation. The cursor blinked at him steadily, a metronome that beat nearly in time to his heart. He typed a line, deleted it, tried again and wondered why even after all this time he tried to spell perfect as prefect. 

It took Vin a few minutes but he did get in. Ezra could hear him stomping around down stairs, calling. Ignoring the other man he added another line to the letter, trying to make it sound like he was entertaining another opportunity that was too good to pass up. Vin came up the stairs, making enough noise to wake the dead. He breached Ezra's study and lounged in the door. The undercover agent did his best to ignore the interloper.

"Need a ride back to Purgatorio." Vin was never one to waste words.

Ezra pulled his gaze up from the document in front of him to consider his teammate. Vin looked cold and tired. There was an annoyed glint in the eye that stated he knew that Ezra had heard him and ignored him, and there would be hell to pay for that insult. Ezra cocked his head and stated calmly, "So call a cab, Mr. Tanner. I am not your ride-sharing service."

Vin stalked into the room. "I just walked 3 miles to get here. I'm not going home in a cab that someone's probably already puked in tonight. Get your ass away from your day trading and take me home."

The older man sighed. "Vin, I'm busy. Feel free to call one of the others."

"Buck's out on a date, JD's out with Casey, Nathan's taking some exam, Josiah's car is worse than mine. Chris is over an hour out of the city." Vin breached the corner of the desk and rested his hip against it.

Ezra quickly minimized the document, hopefully before the hawk-eyed sharp-shooter saw the reflection of what was written there in the highly polished woodwork. "So you become my problem?"

Vin nodded. "Jeep's alternator belt broke. Got about 12 miles before the battery died."

"And the tow truck couldn't take you to your abode?" Ezra raised a hand to his temple trying to rub the headache developing behind his eyes out of existence. 

Vin shook his head, setting his loose hair flying. "Wouldn't go near Purgatorio. Took me back to the shop, and from there I walked here."

"Mr. Tanner, I am in no condition to drive this evening." Ezra knew that the smell of alcohol would still be heavy on his breath.

Vin held out his hand. "So give me the keys and I'll drive."

The tired agent shook his head. "And if I let you take the car, I will find my Jag on blocks if I every see her again."

A crooked smile lit Vin's face. "Nah, we're on the good side of the neighborhood."

"Excuse me, I didn't realize hell on earth had a good side of the neighborhood." After the day he had had, the absolute last thing Ezra wanted was to go out and take on one of the roughest areas of Colorado the Devil had ever imagined.

Vin huffed out a laugh. "The drug dealers keep out the competition. It's all good."

Ezra shook his head. "It's a damn good thing you work for the ATF and not the DEA."

The other agent nodded. "Yeah. And your car is more like a pimp-mobile so you don't have to worry about someone planting a bomb in your trunk." Vin's grin blossomed into a full blown smile.

Groaning, Ezra extracted himself from behind his desk. "Alas, I lack any hideously purple suits with over-accessorized head-gear."

"So you going to take me home?"

"Would you consider spending the night here?"

Vin looked around, considering. "Yeah, but I have to be up at 4 to help Chris move some cattle for Nettie."

The look of revulsion that he knew stole across his features was chased away by Vin's laughter. "The keys are in the basket by the door. I'll be down in a moment. I am not letting you take my car to that sorry excuse of a habitation without returning it before it becomes parts."

The blue-eyed man nodded again, then retreated down the stairs. Ezra walked down the hall into his bedroom and repaired his appearance. He didn't need to look like he did to go down into the depths of the abyss to return Vin to the cave he called home, but it was a proof of control, of rationality. And it would annoy Vin to have to wait the 10 minutes it took him to ready himself.

Eventually he made his way down stairs to see Vin tossing the keys from hand to hand. The younger man practically bolted out the door, grinning with the pleasure of driving the Jag, and Vin's enthusiasm brought a tired smile to Ezra's face. There were days that it seemed Vin was having a contest with JD as to who was actually the youngest. They were rarer than the days he was competing with Chris for least talkative, but when Vin felt his oats, it was usually worth the entertainment to watch.

Ezra slipped into the passenger's seat and turned off his brain. Vin was a capable driver, regardless in his taste of destination. It wasn't often that the Jag's owner just got to sit and watch the world go by. Buildings, both familiar and mysterious flashed by in the night. The quality of them fell off sharply until they reached the outer borders of the slum. There they leaned against each other like drunken sots, unable to support themselves without being propped up by their inebriated neighbors. 

Eventually the car slid neatly into on street parking a block from Vin's apartment. The long-haired man checked carefully before opening the door and exiting the vehicle. He came around to Ezra's side and knocked on the window. Ezra opened the door and held out his hands for the keys. 

Vin shook his head. "Nah, you couldn't drive over here, you sure as hell ain't driving back. You might as well come in and rest a spell."

Ezra glared up at the other man. "I am not leaving my vehicle undefended in this neighborhood. I'll wait here for an hour and then go home."

The two men glared at one another. "I ain't letting you stay here." Vin's eyes turned icy.

"I am not leaving my car here." Ezra sunk further into the seat.

"Fine." Vin threw up his hands and walked down the block, occasionally looking back at the sleek black car. 

Ezra watched him go, watching him in the side-view mirror until the other man disappeared into one of the sagging brick buildings. Once Vin was safely ensconced inside, Ezra exited the car and leaned against the hood, relishing the cool night air. He had a new life to plan, and he couldn't do that with Vin watching him. The ex-bounty hunter was too wise in the ways of human nature not to quickly figure out what Ezra had planned to do. He was also the one likely to talk him out of it.

Vin was also the one with the keys. The thought hit Ezra like a hammer blow to the temple. Another thing screwed up. He could could have hot-wired his own car, but he didn't want to do the damage it would require. Ezra could always ask Vin to return the keys, hell, Vin might even return them after an hour. The sad thing was he wasn't even drunk enough to enjoy not being able to drive.

Across the street a black girl left her rundown tenement. She looked like she was in her early teens, her hair suspended in what he always thought of as giraffe knots, wearing a bright pink shirt and blue jeans. She sat down on the step and leaned against a rickety stair railing. Before long she saw Ezra.

"You don't belong here," she said, watching him carefully from across the road. 

Ezra smiled. "Very true. My friend needed a ride home and I'm just waiting for him to return my keys."

She popped a stick of gum in her mouth. "If he needed the ride, why does he have your keys?"

"Because it's not safe to drive when you've been drinking," Ezra replied.

The young girl laughed. "An' you think it's safe to hang out here?"

Shaking his head, the man said, "No, but at the moment I am stuck."

Silence settled between the two for a few moments. Down the street there was a loud argument between an angry couple. Somewhere glass broke, and someone laughed too loudly in the darkness. Wind slid between the streets, randomly tossing things into the air. Ezra shifted on the cooling hood. The girl popped her gum.

"Aren't your parents worried about you?" Ezra had been on his own, on and off since he was 9, but still, most mothers seemed to keep close eye on their chicks.

The girl popped her gum loudly. "Mom's working. I'm waiting for my brother. He'll be home soon." She practically bounced with anticipation. It didn't escape his notice that Dad wasn't mentioned at all. He wondered where he was.

"He at work too?" Ezra asked, unable to bear the return to silence. The quiet unnerved him. He preferred talking, having interactions. Torture was the few times he'd been on stakeout with Chris who never wanted to talk about anything and would glare him into silence the few times he had started conversations.

The girl continued to bounce, her excitement growing. "No. He's been away for a long time but he's coming back home. He promised to Momma and me that after he came home, we'd move somewhere nicer."

Ezra quietly pictured the family reunion. Brother would come home with more money, probably from drugs or firearms. The family would think they were free, but be sucked down in the brother's life of crime. The girl in front of him aged 15 years to a tired eyed prostitute that sold information for heroin. Mom left and never came back one day.

"That's nice," he said banally. 

Down the street a young black man walked up the alley. He was wearing a white t-shirt that was stained yellow by the dim halogen lights in the streets. The clothes looked clean, and he had an anorexic duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He made his way steadily down the street until he was half a block a way, when he broke into a run. The girl flew off the steps and into her brother's arms, laughing and crying. 

The two hugged each other for several moments before walking hand in hand back to the battered building. They slowed as they approached the stairs, then the young man caught sight of Ezra. He stopped and tugged his hand out of his sister's grasp.

"We don't need your kind of trouble around here, mister. Whatever you're selling, it ain't welcome here," the young man hissed.

Ezra felt his eyebrows climb to the sky. "I'm sorry?"

"Get away from here. We don't want your kind." The boy glared hard at the agent. 

"Dom, let's just go inside," the girl asked. "He wasn't causing any trouble. He just brought his friend home."

"Yeah, I don't see your friend. We don't want whatever shit you're selling and you sure as hell aren't going to sell it to my kid sister." The boy moved to protect the girl.

Down the street a door slammed and boots raced down the sidewalk. Ezra got off the hood of the car, loosened up his knees and prepare to fight if it was required. No good deed goes unpunished, he thought.

"Dom!" Vin's voice was surprised and pleased.

"Mr. Tanner," came the quiet, suspicious greeting from the young man.

"Mr. Tanner?" came the quiet, suspicious question from the southern man.

The sharp-shooter slowed down and reached out a hand to the youth. "Didn't know you got out. I'm glad."

"You know this guy?" Dom motioned to Ezra.

"May I have my keys back?" Ezra asked.

Vin nodded at Dom and smiled cheekily at Ezra. "No." 

Ezra walked over to Vin and slug a companionable arm over the other man's shoulders. He attempted to use the maneuver to re-acquire his keys which were clearly still in Vin's pants. 

Vin caught Ezra's wrist midway through the grab. "Really?" he asked, amused.

Ezra shrugged, then continued to struggle. Their antics had brought them into the clear light of one of the street lights. Dom's brow furrowed, then his eyes light with recognition. "I know you," he said. 

Vin held Ezra's wrist, the two of them still horsing around in the street. They stopped at Dom's quiet exclamation.

"You," he pointed at Ezra. "You were the guy that was going to buy the rocket-launcher from the Grave Shift. You got me arrested."

Ezra danced back and Vin put himself in front of the other man. "Dom, look, does this guy look like..."

"No, not now, but he had black hair before. I remember 'cause he looked like Loki. Had green eyes and an evil grin." Dom stood still in the street. "Vin, he one of you guys?" the kid asked more quietly.

Vin nodded cautiously. "He's with me."

The kid nodded. "Don't like being arrested, much. But after being inside, I know that I don't want that for the rest of my life, or my sister's life. I seen what those guys are like." Dom scuffed his toe on the pavement. "Sarah don't need that shit."

Sarah kicked her brother. "Mom says you shouldn't swear."

"Mom's right," he picked her up and tossed her on his shoulder. "I ain't gonna thank you for throwing me in jail, but I aim not to go back." He turned and went up the stairs to the building, disappearing into the depths.

Vin clasped a hand on Ezra's shoulder. "Why don't you come in?" he invited again.

The older man shook his head. "No, I have somethings I have to attend to this evening." He jangled the keys he had successfully retrieved from Vin during their wrestling match. He quickly slipped into the car and started the engine, deftly maneuvering the car out of the space and leaving Vin standing in the street.

When he got into his home he woke up the computer. There in front of him was the resignation letter. He saved it. It might be needed some day but tonight he felt different than he had earlier. Ezra had the feeling Dom hadn't meant that he would not be caught again. He seemed to really care about his sister, and what might become of two of them. Maybe Ezra had done something right. Maybe for all of the Jones' there were Doms who actually did change when serving time. He could still do good even in the face of failure. There was still hope. He'd give it a little longer.

**

In a battered apartment on a sofa that was barely clinging to life a long-haired sharp-shooter called his boss. "You got my Jeep at the ranch?"

"Yeah, it's here. You got our undercover agent straightened out?"

"Can you straighten out a corkscrew?"

A soft laugh was heard on the line. "You can, but it isn't good for much. Did you get his coils put back in place, then?"

"Nope."

"Shit. Maybe I can get him some leave. At least an assignment that isn't going to blow him to hell and back again."

"Probably a good idea. But I've got a feeling he'll be a bit better come tomorrow. But you can't put him down for gang work for a while. He got made tonight."

"He OK?" The alarm in Chris' voice was real.

"Sort of. I think that more than anything got his head put back on right way round. Guy practically thanked him for arresting him over a rocket-launcher. I'll check on him tomorrow after we're done with Mz. Nettie's cattle."

"Josiah's going over in the morning to drag him to something at the university. I think Buck and JD plan on stealing his TV to watch the game on Sunday. Nathan may invite himself over, too."

"He'll be OK, Chris. We'll make sure of it." Vin clicked off the phone and wondered how long before Ezra got sick of all of them dropping by randomly with car problems, TV problems, and any other problems the had to manufacture to keep an eye on the man. Probably not too long, given the look in his eye when he drove off. Ez’d be OK. Vin let the thought lull him to sleep.


End file.
